


Another Side: Death and Life

by Irhaboggles



Category: Original Work
Genre: Death, Life - Freeform, Philosophy, Rambling, Random - Freeform, Representation, Short Stories, Symbolism, Weird, idk - Freeform, one shots, ranting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22064410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irhaboggles/pseuds/Irhaboggles
Summary: Rambling, philisophical thoughts posted in the form of unrelated short stories. Updated whenever. Enjoy if you can. Indulge in some silly philosophy about Death, Life and the way we portray them. This is the second book in my Random Philosophy Series.
Comments: 4





	1. I Am Death

Life is, for lack of a better word, a jerkwad. He's a Grade-A POS and SOB. He may argue otherwise, and he may even _appear_ otherwise, but you know what they say, even the Devil can appear as an Angel of the Light. Life is no exception. If anything, he is perhaps the cruelest angel (or devil) of all, a true liar and deceiver of the nations. He, being the entity that he is, can come in any way he pleases. He transcends reality itself, he is an idea that can take on a physical form. He is what happened when an action combined with a concept.

Now he often takes the form of a handsome, early-adulthood male. Upper class, wealthy, White, cis-het, intelligent, polite, educated, powerful, successful, charming and a proper businessman and gentleman. He knows all the latest trends, he is very relatable and charismatic, he is everyone's best chum, and he is the warm and boisterous guy that happily attends every wedding and baby shower he can! He's a partier, but not to an obnoxious excess. He's just the jolly buddy everyone loves. He's the center of attention and life of every event, and the world adores him for it.

But enough about him. What about me? Well, I am not nearly as pleasant. I am Death. And in the same way Life can transcend reality, so can I. I was also brought forth when an event combined with an idea. Likewise, I can also choose any appearance that I wish. The normal rules that bind mortal creatures have no power over me. And I, like Life, enjoy the fluidity of my powers. At the moment, I masquerade as a young woman attending college for the first time (even though I've attended every little last institution in history), and I take upon the persona of someone who is quiet, friendly and sweet, but very shy and introverted. I much prefer to be alone. But do not mistake my self-imposed isolation for misery or hatred. I like to consider myself fairly approachable, if you're brave enough.

Life, meanwhile, is a professor at this college. He always tries to choose the best of any demographic he settles into. But honestly, all of it is only an act. As entities beyond the realm of human comprehension, we already know everything that there is to know about the world. College does nothing for us except help us pass the time as we continue to drift along in our existence. Our jobs as the bringers of life and death may be full-time jobs, but again, our transcendent nature allows us to be everywhere all at once. There is no rush to bring life and death. It just happens. And whenever and wherever it happens, we are there as well, inherently present on the scene. Our human roles are only to please ourselves and pass the time. It is where our conscious forms choose to reside, though we both have since proven that we can have multiple active minds all at once. Not quite a hive mind, but something similar. I told you we were pretty far above human understanding!

But I did not just come here today to introduce myself to you, for I am sure that many of you already know me very well. My brother and I aren't exactly strangers to humankind. No, instead, I came here to ask you to change your mind about us. Don't see me as a monster anymore. Don't see me as the fearsome specter, the grim reaper, waiting in the foggy distance to steal your soul and drag it to the afterlife. And don't see Life as a god and hero anymore either. See me as a guide and guard, protecting and caring for your soul as it passes on from this world to the next. I carry you gently down to eternal rest. I aid the lost. I am the one who sings and rocks you to sleep, pulling the covers of the Earth over your body for one final rest before you enter a deep, dreamless respite. But Life? Well…

Like I said, he is a jerk. He does not create, he only brings forth, and then he takes credit for it. You can see him, celebrating himself and dancing through joyous ceremonies and births, living himself up and stroking his own massive ego. It is I who comforts the lost, broken, forgotten, wounded and grieving. It is I who wipes away tears. It is I who kneels before man. But what does Life do except laugh and party? And his laugh is not always jolly either. Sometimes, it is a cruel and sadistic laugh. It is the laugh of a monster who knows all mortals must bow to his every whim. It is the laugh of a tyrant. It is he who decides who will stay with him and remain alive, or who will be cast out and sent to me…

Oh yes. You heard me correctly. It is not I who can decide who lives or who dies. It is him. It is Life who calls the shots. When it comes to human life, I cannot take or steal. I can only receive. It is Life who casts out, or throws away. Until he gives the word, I can do nothing but watch. Until he allows a human to pass from the Land of the Living to the Land of the Dead, I am powerless. It is why some deaths are so long and violent. It is not my fault, Life simply chooses to keep those poor, suffering souls trapped in their pain for his own amusement. And only when he gets tired of them does he finally pull the proverbial plug and allow me to swoop in to save them from their suffering. Were it within my power, all deaths would be quick and painless, but sometimes, Life doesn't like to give up the ghost so easily. So he plays with his toys before finally throwing them out. That's why humans can endure such agony and torture before dying. Life refuses to let them go. But then once he finally discards them, it is I who catches them and carries them away to peace, safety and rest.

Yes. That is right. I am no thief. I do not grasp, grab, clutch or steal. I receive. Life is the cruel master who decides how much time you have left. Do not mistake him for a loving god who loses victims to my clutches. It is quite the opposite. I rescue souls from his greedy grasp. But only at his granting. I hold no power of my own in the Land of the Living. I am not the fearsome monster with the scythe, but the grieving friend awaiting your safe return to me, where I can take far better care of you than Life ever did.

After all, why do you humans say things like "Life gives you lemons" or "Life's a bitch and then you die" or "Life screws you over" or "Life just isn't fair" unless, on some level, you really believe that Life is a monster? Maybe you humans do understand after all that Life is the true villain here, not I, and yet you still stupidly insist on painting me as the bad guy.

I do not care, but it is to your stubborn and incorrect belief about Life that continues to shroud me in darkness and wickedness, even though I have only ever had your best interest at heart. It is I who sacrifices myself for you, not Life. He doesn't care about you at all. But I do. It is I who finds you no matter where he throws you away. It is I who finds you even when you think the rest of the world has forgotten you. It is I who cradles and comforts you. It is I who truly loves you. I will accept you no matter who you are, but Life will play favorites. Why do you think life expectancy can vary based on demographic even when everyone lives in similar conditions?

And while Life attends parties and christenings, I attend funerals and wakes. I stand beside hospital beds to comfort you and the family you must leave behind. I am the one who takes care of them in your absence. I am a shoulder to cry on. I am the one they can come to for solace and protection after you pass. But Life flits from one person to the next, hardly caring who he passes in his madness. I am the one who takes the extra time and care to linger after Life has gone. It is I who will sit beside you at the graveyard while Life parties at the church. He ignores and rejects. I remember and love. I help shoulder your grief. He only seeks out pleasure and joy. I lead you to safety, Life leads you to suffering.

And think now, too. Humanity will revere Life as the god of all. No matter where in space or time, humans love life. There is nothing wrong with that, but when the love becomes an obsession or act of idolatry, that's when the trouble starts. In my opinion, the fanatical worship of Life is far more deadly to humanity than I am. I am useful. I cleanse the world. But what does Life do except spread fear about me, and spread chaos and pain amongst his subjects? He uses that power over you to sew discord and distrust and discontent so that you fight amongst yourselves for his own amusement. Your fear of me is so great that you go to impossible lengths to stay alive and Life relishes every second of that fruitless fight. By always casting Death as a villain, Life becomes a weapon. And he knows it too, and he _loves_ it.

So I implore you now to rethink your beliefs about me. I am no monster, but a guide and guard, an advocate. I do not deny that I have a thankless and dirty job, but I would not trade it for anything in all of reality. I enjoy the comfort I can provide, both to the dead and those left behind. It is I who cleans up a suicide, or a rape, or a murder. It is I who comforts the victims, living and dead.

But it is Life who gave the decree for the heinous act to take place. It is he who finally cut their cords. It is he who decided that they were no longer worth the effort. While I wait, and catch, he dismisses and destroys. Life is the one who decides when to give you up. He decides when he no longer loves you. And he can be the one to make your death long, slow, painful and violent. I have to clean up that mess every single time.

It is a draining job, but it is mine, and it is far more rewarding than Life's job ever could be. His is a hollow, soulless job. Nothing but a sham, cruelty hidden behind benevolence. Do not let him fool you any longer. Life loves no one except himself, but I love all. I am fair, and kind, just and gentle. When you meet me, I will be in a form you are comfortable with. I will be gentle with you, and I will sing you to sleep. Life may reject you, but I won't. You will be safe with me, forever and always. I don't judge or discriminate. To me, you are all the same and are all equally wonderful. I am Death, but I am no monster, nor a reaper. I am your servant and friend and equal, forever and always. When I finally come for you, do not fear. See me as a friend, waiting to carry you to safety, and don't be afraid to let go when Life finally decides to cast you out. I will be here. I will always be here. So don't be afraid, not anymore…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Now I'm philosophizing about Life, Death and their portrayals through history. In particular, this was inspired by the painting "Döden" ("Death") by Janis Rozentāls.


	2. Infinitesimal Infinity In Between

"So this is how it ends," Death mused. "As cliché as it may sound, it seems as if humanity will die not with a bang, but with a whimper."

"Well, I wouldn't even really call it a whimper," Ada replied with a calm shrug. "I mean, I feel fairly relaxed."

"Well, you were always an odd one out amongst your crew," Death replied with an amused and affectionate smile.

"True!" Ada grinned cheekily. "Not many others can claim to have created Death incarnate, giving a bodiless entity a human form for itself!"

"And yet, you never managed to quite nab Life," Death mused thoughtfully. Although Ada had met life before, through Death's stories, she had never been able to give Life a human form the way she'd given Death one. Likewise, even though she managed to give Death a human form, she still did not know all that there was to know about Death. And Death was no god either, having yet to find a way to explain the more complex topics to Ada. It was analogous to a man trying to teach calculus to an ant, save that the mental gap between man and ant was actually smaller than the gap between Death and human.

"Ah well, we can't always have everything," Ada sighed. "And how fitting, too," she added. "It is life that we seek most as a species, yet Life was the one thing we never found or mastered. Death, however?" she turned to smile dryly at her companion.

"Do you regret finding me rather than Life?" Death asked, returning Ada's dry smile.

"I don't know," Ada replied with a shrug. "But I suppose it doesn't matter now. Not with me so close to your door anyway…" Then she fell silent, her usual cheerfulness settling into something more… somber. It wasn't sadness, fear, anger or regret. But it wasn't quite peace or joy either. It would be a lie to say she was looking forward to dying, but the thought didn't bother her as much as she thought it would've.

"If it makes you feel any better, you will not go alone," Death promised.

"Of course I won't. I know you will be with me as I pass," Ada replied, a happier smile returning to her face.

"As will Life," Death promised. "Life will walk through my doors with you."

"Oh?" Ada asked, genuinely surprised by this thought.

"Ah, did you not figure it out yet?" Death asked. "You are the very last living being in the entire universe. When you die, there will be nothing left. Nothing living, that is. And without that, Life will simply cease to exist."

"Ah. What a nice thought," Ada's face contorted some. It amused and intrigued her to think that Life itself was going to die, but it made sense… sort of… But then something else occurred to her.

"Wait. Won't that mean you will be all alone, then? With me and Life both gone?" Ada gave Death a saddened look.

"No," Death replied calmly. "I will join you as well."

"What?!" if Ada had been surprised before, it was nothing compared to now.

"Well think about it!" Death insisted. "You cannot have Death without Life, and if Life goes…"

"Then so will you!" Ada breathed. "If no one is around to live anymore, then no one will be around to die anymore either."

"Yes," Death nodded. "So our little trinity will all pass together. Or, well, it won't _quite_ be together. You'll go first, then Life, then me. But the principle of the thing will remain the same. All of us will vanish. Then there will truly be Nothing once more and the entire universe will fall cold, dark, empty and still. There will be nothing. No life. No death. No movement. No objects. Just a vast, endless Nothing…"

For a moment, the lonely pair fell silent, both of them somewhat frightened about such a quiet and eternal end, but then something else occurred to Ada once again and she did not hesitate to speak her mind.

"Wait!" she said suddenly. "Why would Life go first? If Death cannot exist without Life, wouldn't you two go together?"

"Because when you go, Life will follow, because all Life will have ceased." Death replied. "But since you will be dying, and then dead, there will be a brief period of time where only I remain. I will outlive Life, so to speak," Death chuckled darkly.

"Oh," Ada nodded in understanding, but only a second later, another realization struck her.

"Wait!" she cried again. "If Death will outlive Life, even if only for a little while, could the reverse be true? Could there ever be a time again when Life simply started up, existing without Death? Even if only for a little?" she asked, and Death's eyes began to twinkle.

"Ah ha!" Death cried happily. "Now you got it! Yes! It is entirely possible that, one day, Life will start up again! And that means that Life can come from, and in spite of, Death! Life can exist without Death, even if only for a tiny period of time. But do you know what that means?"

"Yes!" Ada replied, not missing a beat. Her eyes lit up as well. This was a scientific theory from eons ago, stating that the universe would die eventually, but could come back if quantum tunneling continued to happen even after everything else fell into perfect entropy. One little instance of tunneling could jumpstart the entire universe again in a second Big Bang! And if that theory was true, who was to say the universe hadn't already ended and restarted many times over before? Of course, things would be totally different in this new universe, but the point was simply that in the same way the universe sort of just happened, maybe it could sort of just happen again.

Because that was the thing, even if no one was precisely sure how the universe began, many theories, both scientific and religious, always started with a concept of nothing somehow turning into something. Whether it was God's voice or a Big Bang didn't matter. The point was, in theory, something _could_ come from nothing, if that something was the entire universe.

And for another principle, there was that unofficial "law of balance" in the universe, where everything had to have an equal and opposite counterpart. Everything would even out in the end. What if restoration of the universe was part of that balance? If Death were to exist without Life, in order for balance to be restored, there had to be a time where Life existed without Death. This would be the Creation Point, the Genesis, the Big Bang. It would be Life anew, all over again!

And as this thought finally struck Ada, she gave an awed and delighted gasp while Death smiled tenderly at her, glad that she had finally come to see the truth. Even if her existence as she knew it was over forever, she could still take a bit of comfort knowing that _something_ could happen again someday, and it would all be thanks to that infinitesimal infinity in between Death and Life, and Life and Death.

Then when Ada finally passed away, she died with a smile on her face and Death was there to watch over her as she passed. Life followed one infinitesimal infinity later, and then Death did the same. Then, for another immeasurable infinity, all was silent, until Life suddenly opened its eyes once again. In one infinitesimal infinity, everything changed and Life existed without Death. Then one infinitesimal infinity later, Death returned as well, even if in different form now. Then the universe's story started all over again once more…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Random chat between the last living thing in the universe and Death in a human form. My musing on the philosophy/science behind the creation of the universe. Feel free to correct me if anything is wrong. I know I simplified it, so I may have misunderstood and mis-written some things. So yes, please call me out if I messed something up. This was just more musing (as is the point of this "book" LOL)


	3. Nothing

There was nothing.

And then there was something.

And then that something began to snowball.

Things changed. They melded out, and melded in.

Things were shaped and created in order to continue this outward growth of energy.

This is the way the chips fell and the dice rolled.

This is the way the energy decided to fall in order to maximize itself as it grew and expanded and acclimated.

Now, though, the energy will patter back out.

In the future, the energy will decrease, as everything always does.

It'll flatten and meld back out.

It'll weaken and try to find perfect stability again.

The world will crumble into dust, which will float away until nothing exists except a foggy haze.

But then even that fine, thin cloud of nothing will disintegrate until even those particles become suspended into place.

Then there will be no information, no motion, no heat, no energy, no change, no difference.

There will be nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Similar to the last chapter, I just wrote out the general trajectory of the universe if we see everything in it only as bits of energy trying to maximize itself as it carries in through its existence. Can you believe some of that energy and matter somehow coalesced into this… thing? (*Gestures to self*) Yeah. Neither can I. The universe is weird, isn't it?


	4. Death Begets Life

From death and nothingness came life, intelligence and energy.

From death, decay and decomposition, comes new, fresh existence.

We walk upon bones and drink recycled waste.

We turn death into life.

We turn corpses into materials for survival.

Pain into painkillers.

Suffering into character.

Graveyards into land.

We nourish the world with our bodies.

Then those bodies, through the world, nourishes us.

We turn the dark into the light.

But in order to create that light, we have always needed a bit of darkness first.

Death begets life.

It always has and it always will.

Death must come first, in order for life to be created.

We live because of the dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Based off the "ecogoth" Tumblr post.


	5. The Land of the Living

I warned them not to. I _told_ them not to! I told them it would be a big mistake. But they did not listen. They went ahead and did it anyway, despite all my words of warning!

But I confess that I am not surprised. It is not a pretty truth that I come to tell. And they couldn't possibly have had the foresight to understand just how high the price for their foolishness was truly going to be. Now this is the town where no one ever dies. This is the land where you cannot cross over or pass away. This is the Land of the Living. But it is a curse, not blessing at all.

People who attempt suicide scream in agony, unable to die. Burn victims never heal over. The sick and weak, the poor and starving, the injured and the weary can find no cure for their ailments, or relief from the pain. Victims of murder, rape and torture remain alive, unable to escape their agony. And the perpetrators who receive life sentences never die, and never leave. They are locked away in tiny cells and forgotten, left to rot away in despair and agony, but never to die. They have no hope of any escape or release. No one can save them. Not even I. The rest of the world has long since forgotten them, lost in their own suffering…

Those who have suffered great physical trauma receive no respite unless they can afford proper medical care, and even that is not always sufficient. Those who have suffered great mental trauma have no other escape than to face their fears head on and pray it doesn't turn them to madness. Those who have suffered great emotional trauma can only clench their teeth and survive. Those who age can only wither away. Those who are hurt can only wait for the scars to heal. Those whose bodies die and decay can only pray that their cells eventually start to reform, and continue to keep them alive in this Hell that they are living in.

Screaming, crying, regret, mourning, despair, powerlessness, hopelessness, an eternal end. And infinite finiteness. Stagnancy unmatched. Unendingness, and ending all at once. The ultimate form of cancer: a world that can never die, only replenish and live on, even if the eternal cycle and resurrection causes pain and misery.

They are running out of resources, but they are still very much alive. There is much weeping and gnashing of teeth. It is a very perverted form of eternal life. They can age and suffer, but never die. Food and water are running short.

But even if the cells restore and replenish, healthy as before, do they even want it anymore? No. The stresses of life, especially eternal life, are all far too much for them to bear anymore. But I can do nothing about it. I gave them my word that I wouldn't. And I cannot break my word. They must bear the sins and crimes of their nature alone now. Even if the burden is too heavy, nothing can lift it, except the mercy of Life, but Life is far from merciful. Life ignores their prayers, and I am powerless without Life's consent.

I can see it. They wish to shut down. They wish to cease. They wish to stop being overwhelmed and bombarded by new information, cluttering their brains and filling it until there's nothing left but chaos. But I can do nothing. I gave my word. Now, only Life can reverse it. But Life is far from kind. Welcome to the Land of the Living. They all wish they could leave. But Life is far from merciful and I cannot break my word. Who wants to live forever?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Just a dark, musing twist about the concept of life eternal (at least while still on Earth, and vulnerable to all sorts of terrible agonies).


	6. Decay

"I destroy everything I touch!" she cried out miserably, but the man to whom she was speaking only gave her a puzzled look.

"Why does this trouble you, my child?" he asked her tenderly.

"Why does this trouble me!?" the girl shrieked in return, disbelief in her face and voice.

"I mean," the man amended, gesturing for her to relax again, "that this may not be as big of a curse as you may think."

"Not as big of a curse?" again, she echoed his words, disbelief and downright hatred in her voice. She could not believe the gall of this man! Pretending he knew her better than she did! Acting as if any of his years in magic could ever help him understand what it felt like to have the power to kill something with just a touch! Could any of his experience compare to hers? Could he ever truly claim to understand how she felt?

"Hush, my dear," the man continued calmly, "Death and decay are all a natural part of life. We cannot have one without the other. True, your powers are rather...unsavory... But they are by no means bad or wicked. It is only society's twisted, selfish notion that leads you to believe that," he explained, but she only scoffed in disbelief.

"Yeah, it might also be the fact that I kill everything I touch!" she retorted. "So you can stop the Life-Death Circle-of-Life crap now."

"Be that as it may," the man continued, "Death is still very much a part of life, and you just so happen to have a soul that falls upon the former half of that dichotomy. It is nothing to fear or revile, just something to accept and understand."

"Because that's so simple!" she scoffed again, rolling her eyes.

"It's not," the man replied severely. "That is why you must work very hard with what you have been given, that is why you have been blessed with such a great power, because fate knew that only you would have the strength to harness such raw, primal energy!"

The man waved his hand and suddenly, a hole opened up in the air in front of her. Peering inside, she found herself watching all the ways death could help life. Plants and matter decayed into compost. Death took away the sick and suffering. Destruction led to rebirth. The world rotted away, mixing and churning with a rich, fertilized, dark brown soil. Then newness and life sprung forth from the ruins, and from the freshly turned earth. Trees sprung up from corpses. As people passed away, new ones were born into the homes they left behind. More room was made for new life. One could not have the fiery phoenix without the ashes to rise from first. And the most beautiful phoenix of all was always the one that came right after the ashes…

"And that is all thanks to you," the man concluded, waving his hand to end the vision. "You are like a farmer. You reap and sew, you clear the fields and make way for the fresh harvest. You are the very beginning of the earth, the literal bread-maker. You are Mother Earth incarnate," he said, and she looked at her cursed hands in awe and wonder, seeing them in a new light for the very first time.

"Without you, the world would overflow and spill out into chaos. You are order and control, command and cleanliness. You clear away the old and make way for the new. Death and decay are not monsters to be feared and destroyed, but rather, they are angels to be worshipped and understood. You must upkeep them well and serve our planet right. Do as the angels and farmers did in Ages Ago, and reap the world and turn the soil over upon a new harvest, and a new day. Go, guardian and custodian, and protect the earth. Make sure she runs smoothly. You are our hero a Mother Goddess. You are a farmer, a harvester, a reaper. You will till the soil of the Earth and keep this planet fertile…"

The man finally bade for the girl to rise and she did so without hesitation, a new sparkle in her eyes now that she had a new purpose in life. She saluted the man gratefully before strutting boldly out of his house with a new swagger in her steps. She marveled at her blessed hands and all the wonders that they contained. Her power was still hardly pretty, but that wise old man had given her a new perspective on things. She finally understood what sort of good she could do with the awful powers she had. She now understood the necessity and importance of her gift.

The man watched her go with a smile. Decay was a very sweet girl, and she was going to need all the love and support she could get, given what her duties would be from now on.

"But I know she will do great," he told himself, and he was absolutely right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: More ecogoth stuff, combined with Iris from my original work, who has this very same power for this very purpose: highlighting the importance of death in life, even if it's unpleasant.


	7. Your Guardian

I am not quite your guardian angel. _Those_ don't exactly exist. At least, they don't exist in the way you might _think_ they do. But I am your guardian _of sorts_. I am an old friend of yours, whom you lost not too long ago. I can see it that you still miss me, that you still mourn me, and I must say that it brings both great pleasure and great pain to my own heart, even though it no longer beats. You see, it touches me beyond words that you _still_ miss me, and that you love me so dearly and deeply that you still mourn even now. I see you visit the graveyard every single day. I see you constantly trying to visit the Land of the Dead, all just to see me once again. I mean, I know you do not literally leave your mortal coil behind in order to come see me, but your thoughts certainly wander away from you and towards me. It's the intent behind the action that I am so touched by. The hot tears you cry over me warm up my heart like nothing else ever could! But it hurts me too, old friend, to see you like this.

As much as I _adore_ you, and as much as I relish your grief, it saddens me as well to think that I am the cause of so much of your pain. I never realized I had so much power over you. But I don't really want it. Not anymore. Not now that I know it makes you weep so hard and so often. I love you just as much as you love me, and I hate to think that I am why you cry so much. So that is why I have come here now, today. I have realized that if your love for me is strong enough to carry you all the way to the Land of the Dead, every single day, then _my_ love for _you_ will be strong enough to carry _me_ to the Land of the Living.

Now, I cannot leave my undead state, just as you cannot leave your living one. But in the same way you can still visit me, I can still visit you. And trust me, my dear friend, I love you enough to cross the border between our realities. I love you enough that I can still see you, and come to visit you, just as you always came to visit me. That is why I am here now, to watch over you, in all of the wonderful years that you have left. So do not cry anymore, old friend. You have made enough trips down to me. Allow me to return the favor and, for once, come to you instead.

Oh, please, my dear friend! I miss you _so_ deeply! And I don't just mean that I miss being able to interact with you (though that is certainly part of it). I also just miss seeing your smile, and hearing your laughter and songs. I haven't seen you happy since before my passing, and even though my passing wasn't _that_ long ago, I still wish to see your happy face again. I miss that almost as much as I miss getting to interact with you. But that is why I am here now, today. I'm trying to rectify that as best I can. So please, weep no longer. At least not for today. Not while I am finally here again. Maybe you cannot see me, but I can see you, and I know you can at least feel my presence. Maybe one day, I will be strong enough that we may _speak_ again. But for now, I am only a feeling that you will get when you think of me. But I will still be watching over you, now and forever. This is my promise to you, my dearest friend. Now please, please, smile again for me and remember me fondly, for today, I am here with you again, and this time, I don't plan on ever leaving your side again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I just like the idea of lost loved ones visiting the people they left behind and watching over them, rather than it just being the mortals who must visit the Land of the Dead in order to find reunification. Likewise, although I get why most ghosts in stories are restless and evil, I want to see some nicer ghosts for a change (outside of Casper, LOL). So here we are, a ghost who is friendly and sweet, not bitter or vengeful.


	8. Old House on the Hill

There was an old house on the hill.

It always gave off a ghostly chill.

The house was haunted by spirits.

The townsfolk were fast to fear it.

They heard noises, crashes and moans.

They saw specters haunting the nearby roads.

Reports said that there were two ghosts in that old house on the hill.

And sometimes, braver citizens would seek them out for a thrill.

They would wander through empty halls.

They would study the broken, dirty walls.

Sometimes the ghosts would remain hidden away.

But other times, they would come out to play.

No one had ever been killed by them yet.

But quite a good many had been scared half to death.

So for years that little old house on the hill was empty.

No one wanted to live in a house that was angry.

But then a newlywed couple arrived in town.

The woman was still even in her wedding gown.

The old house on the hill was where they chose to stay,

Even though the townsfolk tried to warn them away.

They said they were not scared of the monsters inside.

They wanted a project, and they would not run or hide.

So into the old house on the hill they went!

And much of their time and money was spent.

They cleaned and repaired the house of all its hurt.

They scrubbed away years of neglect, abuse and dirt.

In time, the house was fully in repair.

Then at last, the humans met the ghosts who lived there.

The interaction was indirect of course.

The humans could not see a supernatural force.

But the ghosts interacted with them anyway.

The ghosts were present and active with them every day.

The ghosts watched over them and kept them well.

The ghosts kept them safe and kept the house neat as a bell.

The ghosts were no longer restless or wild.

Not now that they had a new couple, tender and mild.

Instead, the ghosts became soft, gentle, quiet and kind.

They were protective, caring and so very wise.

Even if the mortals could not see them, they remained.

They protected and watched over the house and all who ever came to stay.

This was because they were, in truth, just like you me.

They were mortals who had finally passed away into eternity.

But rather than staying in the afterlife,

They returned to this house because their death had come from strife.

Their passing was violent and cold.

They never had the chance to properly grow old.

So they returned to their old house on the hill.

They wanted to ensure no other residents here would be killed.

They never wanted to see anyone else suffer their fate.

It was why they'd come back to this old house on the hill to wait.

Now new life had finally come to the home.

The ghosts could finally feel happy as they roamed.

So the old house on the hill remained peaceful, protected and happy.

The human couple would be cared for by the ghosts for eternity.

The ghosts felt glad again, and so did the living couple in their stead.

It was nice, even if the living didn't know that they were cared for by the dead.

There was an old house on the hill.

It always gave off a ghostly chill.

The house was haunted by spirits.

But the townsfolk no longer needed to fear it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Random haunted house poem I just made up because I like the idea of a house being haunted by friendly and protective ghosts rather than vengeful, evil ones.


	9. The Doggo of Death, the Pupper of Passing

The old man sat up with a moan. Everything hurt and he had no idea where he was or how he had gotten there. Rubbing his head and shivering from a sudden chill, he looked around and tried to understand where he was. The first thing he noticed was a slew of headstones. The next thing he noticed was a bell tolling in the distance… What the-?! Was he in the graveyard?! But how?! And why?! Well…

Although it would take a bit of time, the man would finally realize that he had died. He was 85 years old, it had been bound to happen soon. Now at last, his Day of Reckoning had come. He had woken up on top of his own grave, leaning against his headstone.

At first, the man was frightened. Even if he had known that his death would be soon, to actually wake up dead was something else entirely. He felt scared and lonely. He had no idea what to do or where to go or how or why. He had no one to help him along the way. He felt even more afraid than he had when he was still just a lad attending his first day of school. At least back then, he'd had teachers and older students to help him find his way. But now? Here? In the graveyard? There was only silence. He was all alone.

But the old man knew he could not remain there forever. Or perhaps, he _could_ , but it didn't sound very fun, just sitting on a grave for all eternity. So he slowly rose to his feet. It was the first time he'd been able to get up without any sort of aid or support.

"Well! That's a pleasant surprise!" he mumbled to himself, that soreness finally gone. Even though he still felt _old_ , he didn't feel feeble or frail. This boosted his confidence to some degree and he decided to take a walk around the graveyard to see if there might be any other wandering spirits here who could help explain to him what exactly was supposed to come next.

After a time, the old man caught sight of a big black dog sitting by one of the larger headstones in the graveyard. The moment he caught sight of the dog, the dog turned around as if it had sensed him staring. At first, the man felt a rush of fear surge through his heart. What if this dog was vicious? Would it attack him? Was it demonic, or real? It seemed to be able to see him, but who knew what kind of creature it actually was?

"Boof! Boof!" the dog barked, ears raising and tail beginning to wag frantically. Its large mouth opened as it began to pant, but the man could see even through the dark that it meant no harm. The dog was not growling or snarling or bearing its fangs. It just seemed genuinely happy to see him.

"Awwww! Come here, pretty doggy! Come here, boy!" the old man patted his knee, feeling a sudden rush of affection and warmth fill his cold, dead heart. The dog obeyed at once, barking again as it trotted happily over to the old man.

"Boof! Boof! Boofboofboof!" it barked, panting loudly and wagging its tail even faster as the man began to pet its soft, smooth, silky head.

"Now, what's a good old boy like you doing out here all by your lonesome?" the old man asked the dog kindly. As if understanding the question, the dog turned its head back to the large headstone.

"Oh, were you mourning someone?" the old man asked, a wave of sympathy washing over him. But the dog shook its head. The man blinked in surprise, but before he could ask if the dog truly understood him, the dog sauntered back over to the headstone and beckoned with its tail for the old man to follow. Well. It must've been some sort of spirit after all!

Admittedly, the man felt a bit nervous to be following a strange black dog through the graveyard, but he decided that the dog had been friendly enough so far, so he put his trust in the dog and followed it to the large headstone. Upon closer inspection, he realized that even though it was indeed a headstone, there was more to it than that. The dog pressed its large paw onto a stone near the bottom of the headstone and the entire front of the giant rock suddenly opened up like a sliding door. The man gasped and peered inside. What he saw was just a starry void. He felt the dog nudge him gently towards it, but that was when the man put his foot down, literally.

"No, no, I can't!" he said fearfully, pushing the dog back. "I won't! I don't know what's down there! I don't know where you're taking me!" but the dog was stubborn. Even after it ceased to push or tug on his legs, it continued to whine and whimper, as if begging the old man to take him for a walkie. It seemed like the dog wanted to fly to the moon and play among the stars.

"Awwoooooo?" the dog asked softly, giving a high-pitched whine as it tilted its head and widened its dark, adorable eyes.

"No, come on, boy, down! No!" the man took another step back, but the dog only followed, still whimpering and gazing at the man sadly. But then, the dog suddenly seemed to change its mind. It turned away from the man and ran right through the door in the headstone, vanishing into the stars at once. The man cried out and reached for the mutt, but it was too late. The dog had vanished.

"Oh, no!" the man gave a horrified and despairing cry, both relived and horrified at what he had just witnessed, and the realization that he no longer needed to test it out for himself now that the dog was gone.

But then five minutes later, the dog returned, completely unscathed and just as happy as ever, only this time, he had brought back a leash.

"Seriously?" the man cried, but relief and amusement were in his voice as the dog set its leash down at his feet. It was just a simple rope, but it looked good, strong and hardy. It looked sturdy and rugged enough to last an eternity and survive any sort of weather.

"You went all the way into the void just to bring me your leash?" the man asked. The dog nodded, tongue lolling adorably out the side of its mouth. Seeing that, and realizing that the void really would not cause him harm, the old man finally relented. He heaved a sigh, but willingly tied the rope around the dog's collar, which appeared the moment the man picked up the leash. It was a black collar with golden studs and silver inscriptions, but the man could read none of it. It must've been in some foreign tongue that he was not trained in.

He suddenly felt another wave of worry wash over him, but before he could dwell on it too long, the dog began to tug him towards the door in the headstone. Steeling his nerves, the man took one last deep breath before allowing the dog to lead him on, through the doorway and into eternity. He felt a bit braver, knowing that he had a friendly canine companion to help him. It was still scary, but at least he was no longer alone…

ooo

Although the man did not figure it out before being led on to the afterlife, the dog he had met in the graveyard was a Church Grim. Church Grims were guardian spirits who watched over a particular church and/or graveyard, making sure that no harm came to it or anything/anyone inside of it. But they didn't just protect the graveyard from malicious creatures. They also guided and guarded the new residents within, helping them move on into the next life and offering them comfort, counsel and help as they went along their journey.

There were many Church Grims all over the world, each of them having been buried in their respective graveyards in order to take on the role of caretaker (both to the grounds and their inhabitants) and guardian and guide. And this particular Grim had been at its job for centuries. Even though there was a way it could've passed on the job to someone else, the dog actually quite enjoyed its position and didn't mind the loneliness that came with working in Limbo. Instead, the dog kept its job and continued to walk frightened spirits into their afterlife, giving them good comfort and company along the way. The humans always seemed sad to see the Church Grim leave, but the dog never minded too much. It was its job to serve. This was what it was made to do. What it loved!

And all through these many years, it received many names. The Grim. The Reaper. The Watchdog. The Ghost Dog. The Spirit Dog. The Guide/Guard Dog. The Counselor. The Comforter. The Spirit. The Churchyard Spirit. The Ferryman. One of its most recent names, however, was almost comical. It had come from a young girl who passed away in a violent and tragic attack.

"Where am I?" she whimpered as she sat up, looking around frightenedly. "Mama?" But Mama was not there to comfort her or answer her call. She was not alone, however, because in the distance, a big black dog began to make its way over to her.

"Doggy!" she waved when she saw it, some of her fears assuaging as she saw the friendly, furry face sidling over to her. Its tongue was lolling out of the side of its mouth again. It looked like a smile! She reached her tiny hands out towards the Church Grim and it happily lowered its head so that she could pet it better. She giggled a little. For some reason, she felt calm and safe and _happy_ around this dog, even though she still had no ide a where she was or if her mommy would be back to get her soon.

The dog, meanwhile, tilted its head sadly. Far too many young people had come to its graveyard within the past year. It was tragic. But what could be done about it? The Church Grim could not leave its post. Instead, it was only supposed to help lost souls pass peacefully into the afterlife. It had no power in the Land of the Living. Even if the deaths needed to stop, the Church Grim could not be the one to help. The Church Grim's front was here, in the graveyard. This was where it belonged and this was where it worked, so this was where it had to stay.

At last, then, the Grim stood back up, towering over the little girl. But she didn't feel afraid at all. Instead, when the dog turned around to offer its back to her, she squealed in delight before hopping right on.

"Good doggy!" she laughed. "Good girl! Pretty girl! Now run! Go! Faster! Faster!" she clapped as the Church Grim began to run, slowly at first, but then faster and faster. It took the little girl on a joyride, looping the graveyard 10 times before finally slowing down to catch its breath.

"Wow, doggy! That was fun!" the girl collapsed against the Church Grim, smiling breathlessly. Her worries about Mommy, Daddy and going home were decreasing by the second as she patted the black dog's large, soft head.

After a few minutes, the Church Grim began to move again, not to take the girl on another romp around the graveyard, but to take her to the headstone that would lead her on into eternity. The dog placed its big black paw on the rock at the base of the headstone and watched as the front of the headstone parted open.

"Woah!" the girl gasped. She was suddenly able to see the stars through the hole in the headstone. The dog then began to walk towards the door. It felt the little girl tense up, but she said nothing. Instead, she only gripped onto the collar that had suddenly appeared as they crossed the door's threshold and she allowed it to carry her on through, into the Great Beyond. She wanted to see what it was like on Jupiter and Mars!

"What a good puppy you are," she murmured as the dog continued to carry her through. The Church Grim replied by twisting its neck to lick her leg affectionately. She giggled at its warm, tickly tongue. This silly dog was a lot of fun to play with! She hoped that they could be friends forever!

But as the two continued on their way, the girl began to feel… lighter. It was not something she could explain, but the longer they walked among the stars and moon, the lighter and smaller and lesser she felt. It was as if she were disintegrating right into thin air, but she felt no pain or fear. Instead, the only time she felt even mildly uncomfortable was when even the Church Grim seemed to fade out from underneath her.

"Wait! Doggy! Where are you going?" she asked as she continued to fade and float away. The dog looked at her sadly before turning back to the door, a tiny hole in the distance visible only by the thin white outline that separated it from the vast darkness of outer space.

"Oh…" the little girl finally seemed to understand. A slight frown marred her lovely features. But then a second later, her face brightened up again.

"What a good girl you are!" she laughed. "You help people when they are lost and scared and you help them find their way back home!" the dog nodded and the girl laughed again. "Awwww! You're so cute and sweet! You're the Doggo of Death! The Pupper of Passing!" she said and the dog managed a toothy smile at her before she vanished away completely, becoming one with the universe from which she had been born.

Once she was totally gone, the Church Grim's shoulders slumped a little. It was always sad to see good hoomans leave… But then the dog's ears and tail picked right back up again. It could sense a new arrival. Another friend! Another good, kind hooman to help out! The dog cast one last look at the place where the little girl had vanished before running back to the door to the graveyard, tail wagging madly. It was time for a new playmate! A new friend! It was time to help someone else! And the Doggo of Death, the Pupper of Passing, could not wait to get back to help the next lost soul cross over. This was going to be so much fun! It was always a new adventure in the graveyard and the Church Grim would not have traded it for anything else in the entire world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: IDK what to say other than that when I die, I want a ghost dog to be the first thing I see when I "wake up" again. LOL!
> 
> And yes, the dog is genderless. It's a spirit. It doesn't need to have a gender. Or maybe the people just see it as whatever they want to see it as, the man seeing it as a boy and the girl as a girl.


	10. The Necromerchant's Death

So this is what it feels like. So this is the sad death of a necromerchant. This is what my requiem will be, not a song or a funeral held in _my_ honor, but in the honor of everything and everyone that I _could_ have saved. The requiem of a Necromerchant is never for the Necromerchant in question. It is always for all the people that that Necromerchant never saved. Oh, when they came crying out for me, they weren't crying _for_ me, they were crying _to_ me. As I passed on from this life into the next, they all came to weep and mourn, begging that I stay with them for just a little longer. No. That's not true. They didn't come to beg for me at all, they came to beg for my powers. And they didn't beg _me_ to stay, they begged for all the people I brought back to stay.

In my dying throes, in my death knells, they did not come to me to comfort me, but for me to comfort them. As I was passing away, finally succumbing to my own powers and becoming a victim of the thing that I had tamed for so many years, they all flocked to my gates to see me sitting upon my throne one last time. It was a marvelous magnitude that you could not have ever imagined. The shining multitudes filled every hall of my home, everyone coming to see me one last time.

No. That's not true. They didn't come to see me. They came to see my powers. They came to beg, not for me to live, but for my _powers_ to live. When they came crying, they weren't mourning me, they were mourning themselves. Even though it was I who was on death's doorstep, even though it was I who was so close to perishing, it was not me that the crowds cried out for. They cheered and honored my actions and they lauded my deeds. They promised to keep my legacy alive, but not a single one of them knew my name. Instead, they only cried out titles, and praises. But I didn't want any of that. I wanted my name! I wanted to hear my name. I wanted at least one single person in all of that sea of warm bodies to come to me and SAY. MY. NAME. But none of them did.

Instead, my powers continued to wane. I continued to fade out of existence. They knelt before my throne, but they weren't here to worship me. They were here to worship my powers, and to request one last boon of me, even as I was dying. With tear eyes and sobbing mouths, they clutched at me as I continued to die. I gave them a sad smile, but told them no more. I could not keep on forever. Even Necromancers can die. We may control death for a while but, in the end, it is always death who controls us. I told them that, but they didn't want to listen. Instead, the continued to weep and beg, shouting out names, asking me to reconsider and to try to fight for all those whom I had yet to save.

Mother, father, sister, brother, lover, child, grandchild, niece, nephew and cousin. Names, titles and familial relationships. So much noise. They all continued to scream and beg. But I was too weak. I ignored them all. I didn't want to hear _their_ names, I wanted to hear my own. I wanted to hear at least one single person in that entire sea of people to simply just SAY. MY. NAME. But _still_ none of them did. Instead, they asked me to fight on, to survive for the very people whom I brought back. They asked me to stay strong not for my sake, but for others. They didn't want me to live, they wanted my powers to live. They didn't want me for me, they wanted me for what I could give to them. In truth, I know that they did not care if I lived or died. I know they weren't even sure if I deserved such a luxury. But I do know that they continued to support me and comfort me, offering everything they could to help me survive.

No. That's not true. They didn't come to help _me_ survive. They came to help their loved ones to survive. They did not save me for me, they saved me for what I could do for them. I heard all of them crying out for me, but not a single one ever said my name. Thus was the Necromerchant's death, the sad and tragic passing of one who traded their life for the good of others and received nothing in return. My requiem song was not for me, but for all the people I didn't save before I died. It was never about my funeral, it was about everyone else's. They didn't mourn me, they mourned all the ways they could no longer exploit me or bring back the people that they loved more than me. No one mourns the people like me. But I wish they would. I wanted nothing more than to hear someone, anyone, say my name. But no one ever did. So I suppose it's even, then. They do not get what they want. I do not get what I want. And the world falls silent once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Just a sad outlook on a Necromancer who made a living (LOL) off of resurrecting people's loved ones only to then be forgotten when they finally died. 
> 
> All those mourners and not a single one thought to weep for the Necromancer who made their reunion with their lost loved one possible. All those mourners and the Necromerchant was the only one who died alone.
> 
> Also, the chapter title is a reference to a stage play that would eventually become the rock opera horror film called "Repo the Genetic Opera". If you know what that is, I love you! If you don't, well, I'm not surprised. It's not very popular. But I ADORE it!


	11. Backwards and Twisted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Slight content warning because the following story could be interpreted as hinting at suicidal ideation. Nothing graphic, but the implication is there, so read with caution.
> 
> That being said, if you find yourself resonating too deeply with this story and/or feel like you should/want to end your life, please DON'T!
> 
> Call the national suicide hotline: 1-800-273-8255.
> 
> (And/or DM if you want. I'm no expert, but I'm always happy to talk about/listen to your stories.)

It's all so backwards and twisted, all the stories that they tell. They've spent eons trying to convince you that Life is the answer, and Death is the enemy. They've painted Life as something vivacious and beautiful, something lovely and wild and free, something to be admired, cherished and enjoyed. Religion centers around it, all noble traits point towards it, the end goal of humanity (or so we are taught) is to obtain it, and to hold onto it for as long as we can.

Meanwhile, Death is the ugly and monstrous predator that stalks us from the shadows. It is the enemy, to be feared and reviled wherever we go. It is something to be defeated, forced to endure its own existence so that only Life may prevail. Always hungry, never satisfied or merciful. It is tragedy, pain, cessation, fear, the Greatest Unknown.

But that's all so backwards and twisted. The truth is, _Life_ is the horrible demon that we all should fear and revile. It is not Death, but _Life_ that brings about pain, suffering and grief. Who is guilty for prolonging pain except for Life? Death is cessation, termination. Life is perpetuity. It is Life that forces to endure, that drags us against our will to fresh new torments every single day. Were the whole world to perish, all suffering on Earth would cease at once. But because we all continue to live, so too does the horror and tragedy.

And even worse, Life is dolled up. We are convinced that it is beautiful and precious, something wonderful and worthy of being treasured. That is all a façade, a carefully constructed lie that we have become convinced is actually the truth. Like predators that attract prey with bright and flashy colors, that is what Life is. It suckers us all, draws us all in with a meager amount of wonderful feelings that convince us that it is worth the pain to stay. Again, Life is very vivacious, and loud, and humans are attracted to noise and motion.

The stillness of Death haunts and unnerves us, even though that is where the true peace and certainty lie. Unlike Life, which is a treacherous and lying demon, Death is nothing but honesty and simplicity. Perhaps it is a brutal honesty, but it is honesty nonetheless. It is gentle, calm and quiet. It is patient and ever-waiting. Not to hunt or to hurt. But to save, server and protect. It is waiting to escort you from this dismal, miserable plane of existence and to take you to a place of rest.

But unlike the bullying and brutish Life, Death will not force you to do anything. So please, continue to live for as long as you would like. See all the sights that the world has to offer. Just know that Death is waiting patiently at the end of the line, ready to take your hand and guide you to freedom. Life may have seduced you for now, and it may take a century or so for it to finally grow tired of you and discard you in the most undignified way possible, but never fear. Death is still there for you. Always has been, always will.

So be patient, my love, like Death, and watch and wait and witness. I'm not asking you to go to Death a day too soon, for Death never takes any pleasure in early arrivals. But I am asking you to observe. Realize that Death is not the villain. Let your continued existence in this world be a testimony to that fact. Search the globe and bear witness to the atrocities of Life. See how Life is the true monster here. The liar, cheater, coward, sadist and manipulator that drags us all along with false promises just so that it can sustain its own existence while simultaneously showing nothing but contempt for the very creatures it relies upon to survive.

It is like they say, Satan was once an angel too, and he comes not as a devil, but as anything and everything you've ever wanted. Doesn't that sound just like Life? So lovely and intoxicating, but also the cause of all grief. And when it is tired of you, it discards you, leaving Death to pick up the pieces. But that's all the more reason you need to stay alive. To bear witness to all of this so that you can come to see the truth and finally understand. That way, after you've had a long existence and it is time for you to meet Death, you won't be afraid, because you will know for certain that Death has, all along, been just another innocent bystander.

But do not despair. One day, Life's greed will be its own undoing and when the last breath on Earth has finally been drawn, there will be no more Life and Death will finally get its long-awaited and much-deserved victory. Slow and steady wins the race. So just be patient and wait, my love, and keep on going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This fic was not meant to be some subtle advocation for suicide, rather, a new interpretation where life is the sadistic monster that is responsible for all of our troubles. But even though that is how I chose to write about life in this story, do not take this as a sign that you should ever end yours prematurely, because you shouldn't.
> 
> There's still so much left to see and do, so much more to create and experience, so many more lives you can touch (no matter how big or small). If for no other reason other than that, I implore you to stay.
> 
> Call the national suicide hotline: 1-800-273-8255.
> 
> (And/or DM if you want. I'm no expert, but I'm always happy to talk about/listen to your stories.)


End file.
